Multiple Universes and I Always Get Stuck With You
by knee-knee
Summary: A collection of Skimmons AU prompt fics.
1. Masquerading as a Clean Conscience

**Masquerading as a Clean Conscience**

Skye ascended the stairs and tried not to stumble over the hem of her ball gown. It wasn't that she was clumsy, not at all. It was most certainly due to the feathers on her mask, which seemed to have been attached with little more than spit and optimism, and were now drooping into her eyes. She made a mental note to leave a snotty review on Amazon if she survived the night.

The mezzanine gave an unobstructed view of the ballroom and put her at eye level with the huge decorative chandeliers. Personally, Skye thought they looked a bit past their prime but considering the age of the building, she supposed she was just grateful they were still clinging onto the ceiling. She'd avoid walking underneath them, just in case.

Truthfully, Skye was anxious. There was only so much a girl could do when undercover and endlessly circling the dancefloor with Trip had only served to agitate her further. They'd split up and, since she was currently cocooned in layers of black satin (thick enough to disguise the gun strapped to her thigh), he had taken the more active job. Trip was now sneaking around the lower floors looking for their target, Skye could hear him sweet talking kitchen staff over the comms.

She surveyed the room again from her vantage point, fingers slipping into her clutch bag and brushing the handle of her ICER for reassurance.

"Hello Skye."

It was lucky that she'd taken her hand out of her bag because she jumped about a foot in the air and span around, heart thudding. If she'd been holding her ICER she was pretty sure she'd have shot someone. She gathered herself quickly and feigned indifference which was hard considering she'd almost shrieked in terror only moments ago.

"You recognised me," said Skye, more unnerved than she liked to admit.

"Of course I did."

"You planned this?"

"Yes, I needed to speak to you. Just once before it all kicks off. You and I both know this won't end well for me. I just hope that, when everything comes to light, you'll believe what I'm telling you now. I didn't betray SHIELD, Ward framed me because I was too bloody trusting and I didn't, god I can't even say it… I didn't kill Fitz. Do you really think I could have?"

It was then that Jemma Simmons started to tremble and Skye saw through the despair and the suppressed rage to the girl she'd fallen in love with so long ago. Simmons hadn't worn a mask, Skye saw the muscles tighten in her jaw as she steeled herself for what was next. Trip had heard their conversation over the comms and he was rushing to them, barking out orders to the rest of the team scattered around the venue. Simmons knew, Skye could see the resignation in her eyes.

"Manscaping ," said Skye so softly she wasn't sure if she'd really said it.

Simmons breath hitched and she looked at Skye with such overwhelming relief that Skye was surprised the girl hadn't folded in on herself. Even when Trip reached them, panting and unsure, Simmons looked at Skye with hopeful eyes. Trip cuffed her, hands shaking and incredibly gentle because it was Simmons and he'd loved her too.

With agents lining their route out to the jeep, Trip marched Simmons away.

Skye's heart beat bloody in her chest.


	2. The Wait

**The Wait**

Skye can't remember how she died or who she was before. All she knows is that she's been stuck haunting a little street in Sheffield for what seems like aeons.

She's not even English. That's obvious whenever she talks and she talks an awful lot, though nobody has ever heard her. Every so often she'll stand in the middle of the street and scream herself hoarse out of frustration and loneliness. Nobody even blinks, they just step around her like she's a rubbish bin or a lamppost.

The isolation is maddening but she does find some solace in the tiny music shop on the corner. The narrow floors are stacked floor-to-ceiling with CDs and vinyl, album art covering every spare inch of wall space and a series of outdated speakers carrying sound across three floors. Skye's favourite floor is the middle one. It's always crowded with people and the music reverberates in such a small space. The beat sticks in her chest and she feels alive, if only for a moment.

Skye's little slice of the world is a mile stretch on one side of the street leading into the city centre, it stops at the crossroads and though she's tried to go further she can't. Every single time she takes a step off the kerb she feels as though she's being shoved backwards. Once she took a running leap and got almost halfway across before she felt like she was being sucked through a vacuum cleaner and spat back at the kerb. It doesn't stop her trying.

It's after one of these attempts that Skye slumps against the music shop's wall and slides down until she is seated. She feels breathless, panting though there's no real need for it. While she recovers she watches the pedestrians, absentmindedly running her fingers over the gravel floor and feeling nothing.

Normally the street is quiet at this time of morning. It's too far from the city centre and the university campuses to get much traffic but, due to road works, re-routed traffic is causing a jam. Frustrated commuters are leaning out of car windows, spitting abuse at each other and beeping their horns. Skye finds it irritating. She'd slope off to get some peace but the bakery across the street has opened and she can smell the bread on the breeze.

There's something else too. One other small pleasure that pulls Skye to this spot every morning.

Simmons.

The young woman appears around the blind corner as if on cue and hurries past Skye to the zebra crossing. She's later than usual, Skye had almost thought she'd missed her. Simmons looks anxious. Clearly she's having a bad morning, Skye can see her trying to stuff handfuls of class notes back into her bag which has split at the seam. Skye isn't surprised, she can see at least three textbooks peaking out of the tear.

Simmons manages to cram them in and sighs in relief. Skye watches the frown leave her face and Simmons' usually sunny demeanour return. Skye has been watching her for months now and she feels certain that there isn't a bad bone in Simmons' body. Once, Skye had even seen her help an old lady cross the road.

Skye had tried to talk to her a few times. That's how she'd spotted the name on the university ID card hanging around her neck. Simmons hadn't heard her but being close enough to hear the girl humming cheerfully had cast a spell over Skye. She ached to talk to her and see that smile directed her way. Skye didn't know what she had done while living to warrant such a cruel and unusual afterlife, but she'd take what she could get.

Simmons checks her watch, agitation seeping back into her face. She hefts her bag, flicking the hair out of her eyes as she steps off the kerb.

She doesn't see the car.

Skye doesn't join the crowd forming around the accident. She doesn't look at Simmons' broken body or the mob that's corned the angry driver who still hasn't let go of his mobile phone.

She moves instead to stand next to the pale girl on the kerb who is still clutching at a bag she is no longer carrying.

"Simmons," Skye says her name softly, placing a hand on her shoulder and choking back her own tears when she can feel wool under her fingers.

Simmons trembles and looks at Skye in confusion. There is realisation dawning in her eyes and Skye holds her when she finally breaks down.

Later, when the ambulance has been and gone, Skye and Simmons walk away. It is then that Skye notices they're on the other side of the street.


	3. Spy Tactics

**Spy Tactics**

It wasn't spying. It definitely wasn't spying. That's what Jemma Simmons told herself as she peeked out of her bedroom window at her new neighbours.

The Coulson's had moved in next door last week and, though her parents had made polite small talk once or twice with the adults, Jemma had barely interacted with them at all.

It was summer but Jemma had been holed up in her bedroom for the majority of the break. It wasn't that she was antisocial, she just had an enormous amount of university work to complete before her course began again in September. Being a biomed third year had its disadvantages. Plus she was a little intimidated by the Coulson's daughter, Skye.

Skye was cool and effortlessly charismatic, Jemma's parents already thought she was charming. Her mum had dropped anvil sized hints for Jemma to 'go and make friends'. She'd just rolled her eyes at that.

Skye also looked nice and symmetrical. Jemma liked that.

Phil and Melinda Coulson were sitting with cold drinks at their garden table. The parasol was up, keeping them shaded and mostly out of view. Jemma could really only see Phil's legs, red from the sun and crossed at the ankle. He moved and Jemma saw that he was holding a newspaper. Melinda said something - Jemma couldn't quite hear her through the open window – and he ran a hand over his sunburn. She spoke again, louder this time and seconds later Skye appeared from their conservatory carrying a towel and a bottle of suncream. She tossed the bottle to her father and turned to lay her towel on the grass.

Skye looked up.

Jemma cursed and ducked down out of view, smacking her head on the windowsill as she went. Stunned, she grabbed a sock from her fresh laundry pile and straightened up. She began wiping the window, faking cleaning while Skye looked on amused.

_Oh bloody hell. _

Well, she couldn't stop now, that would look even more suspicious. Perhaps Skye hadn't realised, she was wearing sunglasses so Jemma couldn't really tell where she was looking. She carried on wiping her window, going in circular motions like her mother did whenever she tidied up. In the end, her sock came away grey and she huffed, throwing it and its clean pair into her laundry basket.

Jemma was flustered and her head was throbbing as she moodily put her freshly laundered clothes away. She'd been in the middle of it when she'd started spying. No, not spying.

Later, as she put the recycling out for her mum, Jemma's phone rang. She fished it out of her jeans and answered. It was Fitz, her closest friend and flatmate at university.

"Fitz! Oh it's so good to hear your voice, how was your holiday?"

"It was alright, glad to be back. There's only so much time I can spend with my dad before I want to strangle him," said Fitz, with a bit of venom. His father was a dead beat, Fitz had never forgiven him for leaving his mother. "Anyway Simmons, I only rang to hear more about this neighbour of yours."

"Eurgh, you don't know the half of it," sighed Jemma as she sat on the low wall separating her front garden from the Coulson's before launching into the spying story. Not that it really was spying, obviously.

When Fitz had stopped laughing, he'd told her to stop being gutless and then he'd said his goodbyes. Jemma stuffed her phone back into her pocket and stood up, stretching the kinks out of her neck. She really needed a better desk chair, perhaps she could talk her dad into taking her shopping that weekend. Her feet crunched on the driveway as she started to walk back inside, she froze when she heard someone approaching.

Skye was strolling down the road to her house, huge earphones on and a shopping bag in each hand. She was singing but stopped when she caught sight of Jemma.

"Oh hello Skye."

"'Sup Jem," said Skye as she set a bag down and slipped her headphones off. Jemma could see her house key in her hand.

The silence between them began to stretch, then they both began speaking at the same time. Laughing nervously, Jemma folded her arms across her chest and tucked her hair behind her ear.

"Sorry, I was just going to say that you have a lovely voice," she said it quickly and cursed silently when she felt her cheeks heat up.

"Oh, thanks," Skye grinned. "I used to be in a band back in the States, The Rising Tide, we we're pretty good."

Jemma nodded and swallowed hard, wondering how best to stop the conversation before she made a fool of herself. Yes, Fitz had said to talk to Skye but Jemma hadn't prepared herself. She was terrible with improvisation.

"And now I sound bigheaded, sorry. I mean, we we're alright. It was just a college band, nothing major," Skye pressed her mouth shut and looked away. Her free hand found its way into the pocket of her shorts.

"No, no I'm sure you were great! Honestly, I don't have a musical bone in my body. Not that it's actually possible, I've always thought that saying was completely ridiculous but I suppose linguistics doesn't have to make logical sense to be-," Jemma stopped talking and prayed that the ground would open up and swallow her.

"What happened to your head?" Skye smiled as Jemma flustered.

"Oh," she raised a hand to the bruise that had bloomed on her forehead. It was still a little tender, she should probably ice it. "I just bumped it, its fine."

"Ah, it just looks painful. I'd tell you to see a doctor but, you're studying to be one, right?"

"Yes, though I'm only a third year student. Still quite a way to go. It's fine though, I'm just going to ice it."

"I know another cure," said Skye as she set the other shopping bag down and walked over to the low wall.

"And what might that be, Skye?" Jemma tried not to tremble when Skye leaned in close and pressed a very soft kiss to the bruise on her head. "Oh, right. Well, thank you I suppose."

"Anytime," Skye had turned beet red. "I mean, if you need a repeat prescription you know where I live."

"Yes, next door."

"Right."

Jemma wanted to slap a hand over her mouth. Skye had collected her bags and was now fiddling with the key in front door. Screwing her eyes shut in frustration, Jemma span on her heel and marched quickly to her own door which had – thankfully - stayed ajar.

"Jem?" Skye shifted uneasily on her doorstep. "Would you like to go to the cinema with me this weekend? The new Jurassic Park film is out and, well, I figured you'd probably like dinosaurs because you're, like, into science. If not it's totally cool, I just thought it'd be fun and your mum keeps saying you need a break so-"

"Yes," Jemma cut her off, a little too excited by the whole idea. "I love dinosaurs."

"Awesome! Right," Skye was beaming now as she pushed her door open. "Night Jem."

"Goodnight Skye," she gave her a little wave as they both went inside.

That night, when Jemma was icing her head in the kitchen, her mother thanked her for taking the recycling out and asked what time her date was.

"It's not a date and I'm not- oh my god you set me up!" Jemma tried to scowl as her parents chuckled but, she had to admit, their matchmaking had yielded results.


	4. Northern Soul

**Northern Soul**

It's raining when Skye first sets foot on British soil. She tries to laugh at how stereotypical it is, but she's jetlagged and nervous so all that comes out is a slightly hysterical whine. Simmons looks at her in concern, gently squeezing her hand and smiling reassuringly when Skye begins to follow her across the tarmac and into Manchester airport.

They spend what seems like an eternity waiting for their luggage. The carousel keeps shuddering and an alarming grinding sounds from inside the motor. Skye starts to grow impatient and, though Simmons protests, she is seconds away from climbing through the carousels hatch to look for their cases herself. She imagines it'd be like that bit in Toy Story 3 but easier because she's a SHIELD agent, not a tiny spaceman.

Luckily, a man in a hi-vis vest gives the motor a kick and the carousel begins working in earnest. It moves quickly and they locate their bags easily enough as Simmons had practically coated them in neon tape back in the States. They head off at last, oblivious to the fact that the carousel is now moving so fast that travellers are risking life and limb to grab their luggage. A man in an 'I 3 NYC' shirt grabs his case but can't lift it fast enough. He goes sprawling to gasps and guffaws from the assembled holidaymakers.

They brush past a squad of baggage handlers who are frantically hammering on a control panel as Simmons tows Skye through airport security and toward the arrivals lounge.

"Right," says Simmons brightly as her eyes scan the terminal. "Just keep a look out for my parents, they said they'd be waiting."

"One small problem, I dunno what they look like."

Skye is getting nervous again, her palms are sweaty on her luggage handles and her throat feels dry. She tries to call to mind her training and control her breathing but then Simmons squeaks excitedly. Skye watches her rush over to her waiting parents, her suitcase wobbling all over the place on its tiny wheels. Taking a steadying breath, Skye follows.

"Mum, dad," Simmons stops hugging her parents and grabs onto Skye's arm with a beaming smile. "This is Skye."

"'Sup Simmonses," says Skye, dropping a case and wiping a hand on her jeans before offering it to Simmons' parents. She tries to keep her composure but her brain is screaming at her for being unable to say hello like a normal person.

She needn't have worried because Simmons' mother yanks her into a hug. The woman is smaller than Skye so she's forced to stoop, awkwardly patting her on the back and looking at Simmons with wide eyes. Her friend just giggles.

"Hello love, oh it's so nice to meet you at last," says Simmons' mother, releasing Skye and allowing her husband to step forward and clap the girl on the back with a grin.

"Aye, our Jemma's told us so much about you. I'm Chris and this," he gestures to his wife, "is Angela."

"Call me Ange, love. Right, shall we get you girls home?"

Chris insists on taking their luggage, jamming Skye's smaller case under a beefy arm and wheeling the other two out to the car. Ange links arms with the two girls, chattering away to her daughter and asking Skye about herself.

It continues throughout the car journey, though Skye finds it hard to keep up with what's being said. She knew Simmons had tried to disguise her regional accent over the years, she'd told Skye as much, but listening to her chatter away with her family made Skye realise just how much Simmons hid it. It was like being let in on a secret. Skye found it incredibly endearing.

Once they begin to drive through the Peak District, the weather seems to take a turn for the worst. Skye watches in quiet horror as the clouds turn black and rain batters the car. The others barely bat an eyelid, though Chris does turn the windscreen wipers on high. Simmons notices her discomfort and links her fingers with Skye's. She's glad of it, especially as the road takes them along the top of a deep valley, curving through the hillside in such a way that Skye feels sure the car is about to plummet.

Skye almost melts with relief when they pass through at last, instead navigating through tiny average towns on the last leg of their journey. Even the rain has stopped. She feels Simmons fingers clench and looks up to see her grinning out of the window at a road sign. Sheffield.

"Home sweet home," says Simmons gleefully as the car finally pulls up outside a house. She gives Skye's fingers one last squeeze before getting out of the car.

Simmons' house is a carefully maintained detached building, with a front garden full of wildly colourful flowerbeds and a few cheeky pottery gnomes. Chris has parked on the driveway, though Skye can see a garage at the side of the house. To her surprise, there's a basketball hoop screwed to the lintel above the garage door. Before she can even offer to help with the luggage, Ange ushers her through the front door and into Simmons' childhood home.

They forego a tour of the house and instead choose to sit in the living room. Ange bustles about with a tea tray and Chris flicks to the history channel on the TV, turning the volume down low so they can talk. Skye accepts the tea that Ange is offering, though she sneaks in an extra sugar cube while Simmons isn't looking. Ange grins and hands her a Wagon Wheel. Skye is reading the packaging when Simmons settles back into the sofa and looks at her.

"They're nice, promise," says Simmons over the rim of her mug. She's curled her feet up onto the sofa, her socked toes brushing against Skye's thigh. Skye tries to act relaxed, crossing her legs and tearing into the Wagon Wheel wrapper with her teeth.

Simmons is right, Wagon Wheels are nice.

"So," says Chris from the other sofa, his feet propped up on a footstool. "What are you girls planning on doing while you're here? There's not much going on, just nana's birthday party on Saturday."

"Not that you have to come to that of course," adds Ange, sitting down next to her husband.

"Oh no, we'll be coming, right Skye?" Simmons smiles and Skye nods, her mouth full. "Other than that, I think we'll just visit town, do the touristy things and maybe the cinema."

"It'll just be nice to have a break," says Skye, sipping her tea. "God knows it's been a while."

"I don't doubt it! You all work so hard and it's been too long since you were last home Jemma."

"I know, mum. We were lucky to get these two weeks holiday. Fitz thought it was going to get cancelled, you should've seen his little face when Coulson cleared it."

"Where is Leo?" Chris leans forward, snagging a biscuit from the tray before offering one to Skye who shakes her head with a smile.

"His mum's, he sends his love."

"Bless, tell him he's welcome to pop down before your leave is up is he fancies."

"Yes dad, I suppose he can always have the spare bedroom if he does and Skye can share with me. I have a double bed after all." Simmons turns to Skye as if asking for confirmation and so she nods, perhaps a little too enthusiastically.

"Ah well, I'm glad you said that," says Ange with a sheepish grin. "Your dad has turned the spare room into – what do you call them… a man cave?"

"Oh!"

"Well my shed is too full of your mum's bloody begonias and daffs at the mo. I swear she's taking over since her greenhouse got smashed up by that cat from next door. I hate the thing…"

"Well if you just fixed it we'd be alright, wouldn't we?" Ange nudges her husband in the ribs, smirking. He leans down to press a kiss to the top of her head and she swats at him. Skye can see the family resemblance, Simmons looks very much like her parents. Her mother's smile, her father's eyes and their welcoming personality. Simmons' parents make quite the handsome couple, though middle-age and comfortable living has softened their bodies and lined their faces. Skye thinks they look like happiness should.

"It's fine, honestly. Skye and I can share, right?"

Once again Simmons looks at Skye questioningly and, once again, Skye responds enthusiastically.

"Sure! Totally fine, it'll be like a sleepover!"

It is not like a sleepover. Skye is certain of that, though she'd never actually been on one. This is stepping behind-the-scenes and seeing how Simmons became the incredible young woman Skye had come to know. It's personal and Skye feels her heart swell.

Simmons shows Skye her bedroom, pointing out little mementos from her past and quickly making room for Skye's belongings. The walls are violet and covered in pictures. Skye smiles when she realises they're all of historical heroines and a few of Simmons as a child.

"You were a cute kid," says Skye, examining a row of what looks like school photographs. Simmons scoffs. "You were! Look at your big smile and your little pigtails! Super cute."

"Yes well, I suppose I was a bit. Before I grew taller and became gangly and unco-ordinated," says Simmons as she joins Skye. "Look, there's Fitz."

"Oh my god," giggles Skye as she looks at the picture Simmons has pointed out. In it, a teenage Simmons is standing next to a tiny, unruly haired Fitz. He's still wearing his trademark shirt and tie but it's so big on him it looks like he's been shrunk. "Wait, I thought you guys met at the Academy?"

"Oh we did, properly. It was only after a few months of us being lab partners that we realised we'd met once before at the CREST Awards. It's an award and enrichment scheme for STEM projects here in the UK. We were both thirteen. Mad, right?"

"Yeah, crazy."

Simmons shows Skye the bathroom, pointing out how to use the shower before leaving her to it. The hot spray washes away the last vestiges of their journey and when Skye emerges minutes later, she feels less inhuman.

She paces Simmons' bedroom while her friend showers. Quickly being drawn to the bookshelf and occupying herself by flicking through some of the titles. There's lots of textbooks, which is unsurprising, but there's also a great variety of novels. Mostly science fiction and crime from what Skye can glean from the titles. In the top corner, Skye finds poetry. She is just leafing through an anthology when Simmons returns, pyjamas on and ready for bed.

"Sorry, I just got curious," says Skye, moving to put the book back.

"Its fine, books are meant to be read. Besides, that has one of my favourite poems in," says Simmons as she pulls the covers back and slip into bed. "Do you mind if I have this side?"

"No that's cool."

Skye puts the book back and then joins Simmons in bed. She doesn't move at first, trying to make sure she doesn't get in Simmons' way. Her stiffness is noticeable and Simmons asks if she's alright.

"Yeah I'm fine, just didn't want to be a bed hog," says Skye as she wiggles into a more relaxed position.

"Don't be silly, there's plenty of room."

Simmons waits until Skye is settled before she switches the bedside lamp off and the room goes dark. Skye laughs when she realises there are glowing stars stuck to the ceiling.

"Dad did it for me when I was little and I've never felt like taking them down," says Simmons quietly.

"I like it."

They're silent for a long time, comfortable enough that they start to drift off. Skye rolls onto her side to look at Simmons, picking out her friend's silhouette in the glow from the alarm clock.

"Thank you Jemma, for letting me stay," she says softly and hopes that Simmons knows just how much it means to her. Simmons turns toward her and though Skye can't see her face, she knows Simmons is smiling.

"You're welcome Skye, any time. I've wanted to bring you home with me for a while but our leave kept getting rearranged. Mum and dad were so excited to meet you, you know."

"Oh," says Skye, a little overwhelmed and unsure of what to say. "I really like your parents."

"They really like you."

"Oh."

Skye's eyes feel a bit prickly so she blinks in the darkness and clears her throat. Simmons' hand wanders over the sheets between them until she finds Skye's fingers. She gives them a gentle squeeze.

"Well," says Skye a little more collected. "I am pretty awesome."

Simmons chuckles and scoots closer to Skye, her thumb making circles on Skye's palm.

"Yes Skye, you are awe inspiring."

"You're not so bad yourself," says Skye and then, because she doesn't have the words, she presses a kiss to Simmons' knuckles.

Hearing Simmons' breath hitch wasn't quite the reaction Skye had anticipated, nor was the whispered request that followed.

"Skye, may I kiss you?"

In response, Skye trails a hand up Simmons' arm, brushing along her shoulder until she finds her face in the darkness. She leans in close, feeling Simmons grab the front of her pyjamas and briefly wonders whether her heart is about to beat out of her chest.

When Simmons finally kisses her, Skye feels certain that her heart has exploded. She can't breathe, she can't get close enough and she can't stop.


	5. Crap Jokes

A/N: Thanks for your response guys! :)

**Crap Jokes**

The Boiler Room was heaving with students and Skye felt butterflies begin to well up in her stomach at the thought of performing in front of so many people. _Digest them_, she thought as she stepped away from the bar and began weaving her way toward the DJ box.

The compère – Bobbi, Skye was sure her name was Bobbi – stepped up onto the small makeshift stage that had been erected along the far wall, and began to announce the evening's entertainment. Open Mic Night was a fairly new addition to the SHIELD Academy's event calendar but so far it had proved popular, though sometimes the performers were filled with false confidence. Last week, a guy from Skye's CompSci class had murdered The Cure's song _'Just Like Heaven' _and been booed off the stage. Skye hadn't seen him since, apparently he hadn't lived down the embarrassment quite yet.

Before she had a chance to steel herself, Skye's name had been called and Bobbi was beckoning her onstage.

'Hey there, my name's Skye,' she said with all the confidence she could muster while her hands trembled holding the microphone. 'It's really great to see so many of you. Should be a good night! I don't like to brag but, at my last gig I got a standing ovation.' Skye paused, trying not to squint as the techies finally moved the spotlight onto her. 'Yeah, from the whole audience. All four people.'

There were a few chuckles. Skye tried not to throw up.

'So I just had a birthday, yeah I turned forty-two… I'm kidding, god the front row looked a bit freaked then. And there's a woman in the back thinking, shit I wonder what face cream she uses… That, my friend, is simple. I just bathe in the blood of virgins and also drink lots of water. It's very important to keep hydrated.'

She let a little smile creep onto her face as she got a few genuine laughs. _I can so do this_, she thought as she stopped shaking long enough to move about the stage.

'Hang on, where was I? Right! Birthday. No, I turned twenty-one. It's a weird age, especially if you happen to be a part of SHIELD, because out in the field we get caught up in all sorts of crazy, super dangerous stuff, right? Some of you out there have probably almost died at least once.'

There was a murmur of assent. Skye pulled a face, nodding to the audience members she could see.

'My point is that our life expectancy is a bit hit or miss. We could live to a ripe old age, cash in our pensions and fritter it away on boiled sweets and pimping our mobility scooters. Or we could get eaten by, like, a giant flying alien worm next week. So, knowing all this, my flatmate got me an Eco-Urn for my birthday. I kid you not, a fucking URN. Think I might move out…'

The audience were laughing. _Oh thank God_, thought Skye before hoping that Raina, her flatmate, hadn't come along tonight. She'd said she was going out, though Skye hadn't asked where. Most of the time Raina was alright, but she was also completely nuts. It was best to stay in her good books.

'She was so psyched about it though, because apparently you put the dead persons ashes in it right, and then bury it. But there's seeds in it or whatever so you end up growing into a tree. It's supposed to be all poetic, like, oh look you live on as a majestic tree! Your loved ones can come and hug the tree and feel close to you, blah blah blah. Yeah that's great, until you get chopped down and made into toilet paper or IKEA flatpack furniture. I don't know about you but being made into a friggen BALAVIG bookshelf doesn't sound like fun.'

Skye stuck her free hand in her pocket and slouched about the stage, kicking her feet as the audience laughed.

'I hate IKEA furniture. Its crap and it's everywhere!' Skye hands started to dart around as she spoke and she had to stop herself a few times from bringing the microphone away from her mouth mid-sentence. 'My apartment is full of IKEA crap. I think that's probably true for any student apartment off campus, right? Give me a cheer if your house is full of IKEA crap.'

There was a roar from the audience. Skye smirked.

'Yay, lots of us. My landlord thinks it's the height of sophistication. He also thinks he can get away with calling the burst pipe in the kitchen a water feature though sooo… I said, oh hey is that black mold? He went oh no, no, it's vintage. Vintage?! There's nothing vintage about respiratory distress, my friend. Can't make that look better with an Instagram filter. Perhaps that's the way I'll go out, the mold will get me before the giant alien worms ever can.'

Skye grinned, coming to stop at the end of the stage and leaning against the corner of the DJ box. She was hoping that she looked like the definition of cool, because you never knew who was watching.

'Y'know stand-up comedy is weird, everyone always says to talk about what you know so you end up just talking about yourself. Which is lucky for me I suppose. I know myself so well that sometimes I finish my own sentences.'

It was cheesy, Skye knew that but apparently somebody liked it. A squeal came from stage right and Skye quickly turned to see who it was, squinting and grinning into the audience. The house lights were dim but she could just make out faces.

'Christ, someone liked that joke. Are you alright? It's been a while since I've made a girl make that noise… What's your name, chuckles?'

'It's Simmons,' said a voice and Skye followed it to a table near the bar. There were three figures sitting there and the light from the bar gleamed off the girl's hair. It looked short and unruly. Skye was already playing mental Guess Who, flicking through her classmates faces in her mind. She was almost certain she didn't know any Simmons. Definitely not any Brits either.

'Simmons? What are you studying Simmons?' Skye wanted to make sure they hadn't crossed paths. That would be embarrassing, though truthfully she wasn't great at remembering faces.

'Biochemistry,' said Simmons and Skye nodded.

'Awesome, I have a joke just for you then,' clearing her throat, Skye stood up straight and began to chant. 'Sodium sodium sodium sodium sodium sodium sodium sodium sodium sodium sodium sodium sodium sodium sodium sodium sodium BATMAN!'

The audience laughed, but Skye could only hear Simmons.

'Okay, okay another… Two scientists walk into a bar. The first says, "I'll have a H2O". The second says, "I'll have a H20 too". He died.'

Skye couldn't stop grinning as she began pacing again.

'Right last one because I'm running out of time. How do you organise a space party?' She paused, knowing full well that these jokes were crap. She just hoped they were so crap they were good. 'You planet.'

Simmons laughed the loudest.

'Thank you, you've been an awesome audience. Don't all rush to stand up and applaud. Seriously, you've been great and I've been Skye! If you want me, I'll be propping up the bar for the rest of the evening.'

Bobbi gave her a slap on the back as she jumped down off the stage, handing her microphone over, and heading for the bar once again. The audience were still clapping as Bobbi began to introduce the next act and those she passed gave her nods of appreciation. _Not too shabby_, thought Skye as she leant against the bar and nodded at the bartender.

'Here, let me get that for you,' said a familiar voice.

Skye turned and there was Simmons, a lot closer and less blurry than before.

'Thanks,' said Skye, letting Simmons order and lean against the bar next to her. 'So, you liked my terrible jokes then?'

'Oh yes,' Simmons said with a brilliant smile. The bartender set their drinks down and she handed over the cash. 'You did very well, especially in front of so many people. Personally, I don't think I could handle it.'

'I'm glad. Honestly, I was so sure I was going to freeze up the second that spotlight hit me. Guess I did alright. Cheers.'

They clinked their beer bottles together and sipped in comfortable silence for a few minutes. Simmons waved at the table she'd been sitting at earlier and her friends waved back. Skye recognised one of them from her brief stint on the engineering module.

'You know Fitz?'

'Yes, he's my best friend. He mentioned that he knew you from last year's classes. Do you want to go sit with them?' Skye shrugged and Simmons nodded. 'That's Trip, he's lovely. Technically he's part of Operations but he's been helping Fitz and I prepare for our field assessments.'

'Ahh think I could use a guy like him, I'm a crap shot.'

'Me too. Last time, I shot out one of the windows of the armoury. Target was nowhere near there of course. Total disaster. Fitz couldn't stop laughing.' Simmons rolled her eyes and slouched a little closer to Skye.

'Well, what are friends for right? If it's any consolation, half the time I still get confused with the safety catch and the magazine release. Can't count the number of times I've gone to shoot and found that my clips gone. Baddies beware, right?'

Simmons was chuckling again and Skye watched her out of the corner of her eye. She was absolutely stunning, especially when she smiled.

A few drinks later and Skye was feeling bold. She set her empty bottle down on the bar and turned to Simmons, biting the bullet.

'So, shoot me down in flames if you like but, do you want to get out of here?' Skye tried not to let her voice shake with nerves, then visibly relaxed when Simmons didn't turn on her heel and leave.

In fact, Simmons grinned. She grabbed Skye's hand and pulled her toward the exit, waving in her friends' direction as they looked on amused.

Skye was astonished to learn that Simmons' room, though still on campus, happened to contain one BALAVIG bookshelf. It was completely overstuffed with books and Skye was surprised it hadn't buckled under the weight. The room was much bigger than those the freshers stayed in, with a double bed and a proper full-sized desk. Simmons' disappeared through a door on the right and Skye heard water running. _A bathroom_, thought Skye as she glanced at the pinboard above the desk. She was just reading over a printed copy of Simmons' class schedule when she felt a hand on her shoulder.

'Sorry, just wanted to wash my hands. I split beer on myself earlier and they still felt sticky,' said Simmons, tugging at the hem of her shirt then clamping her mouth shut, a blush creeping across her cheeks.

'It's cool,' said Skye, smiling at Simmons softly. 'So, what do you want to do? We can sit and talk if you like or I can tell you more crap jokes.'

'Maybe later,' said Simmons, straightening up and stepping closer to Skye. 'Right now, what I'd really like to do is kiss you and then perhaps get you out of those jeans. May I?'

'Oh hell yes,' said Skye, her knees trembling as Simmons grabbed her t-shirt collar and slowly tugged her down into a kiss.

Simmons kissed almost languidly, her hands snaking around Skye's neck and waist. Skye felt like she could almost taste her own heartbeat as it hammered in her throat. She breathed deeply, pulling Simmons' hips closer and nipping at her bottom lip. Simmons' smiled into the kiss, backing Skye up until she was pressed against the wall. Skye felt her shirt snag on something and broke away when she realised she was caught on a drawing pin that was holding a poster up.

'Sorry,' said Simmons with a grin as she pulled Skye to the side, resuming her kisses the second that they were clear.

One of Simmons' hands slid down from Skye's waist, tugging gently on her belt loop before coming to a halt on her thigh. Skye felt Simmons' nails scratch over her jeans, catching on the outer seam, and let out a shaky breath. Simmons' lips brushed against Skye's neck as she tilted her head up, letting the shorter girl suck at the sensitive skin there. Skye's hands grew needy, once again pulling Simmons' closer by the hips and then moving under the hem of her shirt to press against hot skin.

Skye groaned when Simmons bit down lightly at the skin above her collarbone, her hips pushing into Simmons' instinctively. Chuckling, Simmons pressed her thigh between Skye's legs, giving her the pressure she was looking for. She kissed her again, breaking away to look in Skye's eyes as she began lifting her t-shirt. Skye didn't stop her, only grinned as she allowed Simmons to slip it off and then her bra.

Barechested and breathless, Skye looked incredibly beautiful to Simmons. She told her as much as she began sliding her hands up Skye's sides to palm her breasts. Skye arched against her as she carried on massaging, thumbs brushing lightly over Skye's nipples.

'Simmons, you are way too overdressed,' panted Skye, fumbling with the buttons on Simmons' shirt. 'Fiddly little fu-.'

'Here, let me,' said Simmons, only moving away long enough to unbutton her shirt and toss it to the floor.

Skye's mouth went dry at the sudden expanse of pale skin that she could roam her fingers over. Simmons let her touch, breathing heavily and staring at Skye with intensity. It was too much for her to handle and suddenly she crashed back into Skye with renewed vigour, hands sure and steady as her lips kissed every available inch of skin. Simmons kissed lower as she sank to her knees, tugging Skye's jeans down with her. Skye felt Simmons shallow breaths at her hip and her fingers on her thigh. When Simmons moved again, Skye's knees buckled.

Later, as they both lay in the middle of Simmons' bedroom floor, Skye pressed a kiss to a freckle on her shoulder. Simmons turned to look at her, gently brushing her fingers over a carpet burn on Skye's hip. The silence between them wasn't uncomfortable but Skye felt the need to fill it so she cleared her throat.

'What kind of ghosts haunt chemistry labs?'

'I don't know,' said Simmons, the corners of her mouth already beginning to quirk.

'Methylated Spirits.' answered Skye with a grin.

Simmons laughed at her crap joke and Skye hoped she always would.


End file.
